


back again before it's time for sunny-down

by lanterngoesswingingby



Series: take me back to yours, that will be fine [4]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Early Queen, Gen, Insomnia, Light Angst, Roger is having an internal crisis but he's okay really, Swearing, just always assume there's swearing tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 17:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18473749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanterngoesswingingby/pseuds/lanterngoesswingingby
Summary: 'The cold always clung to their flat like a disease, coating the walls in a thin, bitter film and biting at the air until there was little left but a hanging chill.Roger was tired.'orrog can't sleep, and deaky is himself - that is, an angel.





	back again before it's time for sunny-down

**Author's Note:**

> honestly? i couldn't sleep and wrote this, rather self-indulgently if we're being honest with ourselves. i cannot stress enough how there is no plot to speak of here, just a healthy bit of angst and a side of fluff, cos.. i'm me. prepare for an un-edited mess as usual! hot space let's go!

The kitchen was tinged with an unpleasant coldness. It was no longer winter, spring having finally reared its head with a smattering of sun that drew the daffodils up from the soil, albeit slower than usual. The cold always clung to their flat like a disease, coating the walls in a thin, bitter film and biting at the air until there was little left but a hanging chill. 

Roger was tired. 

He refreshed his phone for the seventh time in the past five minutes, desperate for a small hit of entertainment, or, if nothing else, for the clocks to perhaps reverse a few hours so he could try again, lay down and close his eyes and sleep within mere minutes. He, of course, was unlucky. The time glared at him accusingly, '5:31am' lighting up the small room in a way that the cloud-blocked sunrise was failing to do so. If he concentrated he could hear Freddie’s soft snores from across the hallway. 

There was a soft creak, and a sigh, and Roger tensed, sitting alert at his spot at the kitchen table as if he had been caught doing something wrong. But then, nothing – the flat settled again. He supposed it was John, shifting from his position on the sofa that was undoubtedly uncomfortable, or even Brian who had taken up residence on the floor, armed with almost every spare blanket they could dig out from the backs of the cupboards. It had been a late rehearsal – though, what was new about that nowadays, with songs finally, finally coming together in the small hours, the feeling of success and _excitement_ pounding through their brains and hands, that what they were doing was beginning to mean something – until sleep dragged them to lay down their instruments and pens. 

Roger had never been good at that, though. If he clenched his fists, he could still feel that same adrenaline in his fingers, urging his hands to move to a beat that he was still only on the brink of working out. His fingers itched to go back to his kit and work until his hands were calloused and bloody. He wasn’t finished. It wasn’t insecurity – he knew his talent, he knew his worth and fuck, he knew his ability to keep going and going and _getting it done_ , scratchy voice and puffy eyes be damned. He indulged himself in a brief, humourless smile. This wasn’t his first band. This wasn’t his first university degree course even, wasn’t his first –

Nope. He wasn’t going there tonight. Not when he was already failing to supress the heaviness that told him that he had already fucked up today. There was no point in trying to sleep now, it was basically a write-off. Brain would tut when he saw the dark proof under his eyes, half in concern and half, more than half, in frustration. It didn’t matter, that wasn’t new, not really. It was a damn sight easier to deal with than the frowns when he turns up past sunrise having been god knows where, occasionally with the souvenir of a bruise, for pleasure, business or otherwise. 

He hit ‘like’ on a few more Instagram posts, only half paying attention. His thumb hovered over the camera, humouring himself for a split second with the idea of waking Freddie up with a number of ridiculous selfies. He then went to twitter for the fourth time, finding little change since the last time he had dragged to refresh his timeline, except a _HuffPost_ news story on the merits of showering at night.

“Roger?”

Roger startled, phone in hand and thumb poised for a retweet. The voice came from behind him in the doorway and yet he knew straightaway that it was John, the only one who would speak so politely and refined at an ungodly hour of the morning. When he turned to look he was of course correct, John’s hair falling in messier waves than Roger had ever seen it, the other man only just suppressing a yawn. 

“What are you doing up?” John asked, voice unbearably soft and gentle. Roger’s back bristled.

“Go to sleep, Deaky,” he replied. He knew that his snapping was uncalled for, and yet he couldn’t seem to access any softness in his own words. John frowned. It was not disproving, or even hurt, and Roger couldn’t work it out.

“I saw you go to bed.” It wasn’t a question, and yet Roger felt the compulsion to respond in defence. 

“I—” Roger faltered. The level of quiet was bordering on intolerable, and he felt his arms prickle against the cold. He was tired. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Surprisingly, John simply nodded. He didn’t say anything, but turned and left the kitchen, leaving Roger feeling confused. For some reason, he could feel a lump in his throat, which he willed down angrily, rubbing at his eyes in frustration. It was less than a minute before John returned, this time with an armful of blankets, and a sleepy Dylan purring around his legs. He dumped one of the blankets un-ceremonially on Roger’s shoulders before moving straight to the fridge. 

“What are you doing?”

“You and Freddie do have hot chocolate, yes?” John asked in lieu of an answer, already pulling out the milk, which was down to its last pint, and grabbing the two closest mugs from the counter – one Roger had nicked from Brian, which was a plain yet fetching shade of yellow, and one that Freddie had received as a Secret Santa gift that was adorned in rainbows, the words ‘No One Knows I’m Gay!” printed on the bottom of the ceramic. Roger watched with drooping eyes as John bustled around the kitchen as if he had lived there for years, the two of them in companionable silence. Dylan had perched herself in front of Roger, who was lazily stroking her, feeling all at once out of place and perfectly, perfectly at home. 

He did not notice John had finished until the yellow mug was placed in front of him, steaming and sweet-smelling. John took a sip from the other opposite him. He had also placed a blanket around his own shoulders, and he shot Roger a look over the top of the rim of his mug. Roger snorted softly into his own hot chocolate, and they sipped as the sun gradually decided to rise, layering the kitchen in a pale, golden haze. 

They didn’t speak. They had both leaned further into their chairs, Roger curling his hands around his mug and letting the warmth of the steam, blanket and company fill him from the outside in. His hands still twitched, but he didn’t notice so much, instead scratching behind Dylan’s ears and drumming a lazy pattern on the table. 

John noticed and raised an eyebrow, offering an easy smile. Roger found himself returning it.

They remained there, at the kitchen table with cooled mugs of hot chocolate and an attention-seeking cat, until Freddie stumbled in at eight, giving them both a lazy wave and a slightly confused, yet affectionate expression. It wasn’t until Freddie reached into the fridge and bemoaned that they were out of milk, _‘again, for Christ's sakes’_ , that Roger finally laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the... all of it, if i'm being honest, but as always thank you so much for reading! i deeply appreciate y'all sticking with these weird little fluff-fests, you're all superstars x feel free to say hi on my [tumblr](https://lanterngoesswingingby.tumblr.com/)! i am equally as messy there tbh, but we have a good time x


End file.
